Addio, e Ciao
by Blood of Alice
Summary: The agony the vain hope of wishing that a promise will be kept left in the heart is something Italy knows all too well. But, it doesn't matter. He will wait, all eternity if he must, to see that promise kept, to see it through, regardless of his pain, his tears, his yearning. But perhaps a certain blue-eyed blonde can save him from that centuries' old pain that haunts him still.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, okay, here's the GerIta I said I was working on. I finished this ages ago, I was just debating whether or not I should actually publish it...

It came to me after seeing videos on GerIta on YouTube, and from this little list of songs I told myself I would try to write fanfics with. So Here's what came from that.

**Disclaimer:** Guys, seriously, I don't even get why we need this, I thought by this point everyone came to the consensus that no one owns anything of what we make fan works out of. I don't own nor claim ownership of the songs A Thousand Years by Christina Perry or Once Upon a December from Disney's _Anastasia_.

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Chapter 1

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you_

_For a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

Even after centuries had passed, each blurring into the other lest a war or tragedy strike, Italy still found himself sparing some of his time to sit outside beneath the stars, gazing up at the endless expanse of dark blue littered with sparkling lights that burned ceaselessly, day or night. His warm, brown eyes, soft with emotion, stared on and on as his mind wandered, each breath a white puff, cheeks and nose pink from the gentle, but biting cold breeze, resting his chin on his knees, sighing quietly.

Really, sometimes he wondered why he bothered with this. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop this, he just couldn't.

He had promised he would come back…he…_had_ to...

Italy blinked furiously, trying to clear away the tears that had suddenly began to well up, refusing to cry.

Dio, was he pathetic… The saddened nation hugged his knees closer, burying his face into his arms, an uncharacteristically bitter laugh quietly leaving him.

Dio, how he missed him. Italy was never able to completely move on after Holy Roman Empire's death, no matter how much his happy, carefree demeanor said otherwise. People had their ways with dealing with their grief, right? Well, this was his.

Smile, smile, don't let the pain show. Smile, smile, there's no sadness in this heart of mine meant for the world to see...

None at all...

After all, everyone thought he was a happy, useless fool, right? Then he would let them keep thinking that. No one needed to know of the secret pain, of the regrets, of anything, for, just as it wasn't any of his business to know theirs, it wasn't their business to know his. As his eyes once again found the twinkling stars above, his lips curved into a painful smile.

He would wait until the end of the world if he had to, if it meant that he could again see Holy Rome. All Italy wanted to say was "Hello."

"Hello, and goodbye."

Hello and goodbye…so that he could finally leave behind that painful chapter in his life. So that this suffocating chain that weighed him down and held him back, a slave to a past that held him heartlessly, would finally disappear once and for all. Holy Rome didn't even have to _stay_. He…he just had to come _back_, because Italy _needed_ to see him one last time. Italy didn't want to be left with this bittersweet hope that promise had left in him since he was a child.

He needed the closure.

"Come back to me," Feliciano whispered quietly. "Come back like you promised. Don't leave me like this…"

_Please, don't..._

And once again his arms hid the tears the world was not meant to see.

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**A/N****:** Forgive me for the brevity of the chapter ^^;; I would truly appreciate some feedback on this story! Tell me what I can improve, especially with this pairing. I love my OPTs, but I'm very timid with my Hetalia ones, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Also, I don't have a beta, so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors in my story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot.

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Chapter 2

_Far away, long ago,_

_Glowing dim as an ember,_

_Things my heart_

_Used to know,_

_Things it yearns to remember..._

_And a song_

_Someone sings_

_Once upon a December_

Germany sat up on his bed, sighing tiredly, running an irritated hand through his hair. This _really_ had to stop. _Really_.

How many nights had it been that he hadn't been able to sleep properly? He didn't even know _why_ he was having such a hard time sleeping, either. Germany just knew he hadn't been able to sleep more than, what, an hour - three, four?- every night, all for some dream, vaguely remembered, vaguely recalled even now, in the dark night, regardless of the heartfelt pain it brought. Regardless of that strange aching yearning, that loss, that regret and guilt. Blue eyes unintentionally glanced at the vacant spot where Italy usually slept, the spot having been unknowingly, yet almost forcibly taken over by the Italian.

Or rather, he concluded, where he _thought_ the Italian usually slept.

Prior to this phase of insomnia when he had been able to sleep, he hadn't realized Italy's habit of waking up at random hours of the night, leaving for God knows how long to God knows where, only to show up again and crawl back under the covers. Italy had always been a very clingy person, but now, at night, after returning from his little walk, he would be even worse about it, leaving no room between himself and Germany. If the Germanic nation dared to so much as move half an inch away from the smaller man in his "sleep," Italy would immediately wake and curl even _closer_, if that was at all possible. At times he would even take his arm captive in an amazingly strong grip and cling to him the entire night.

He might have been annoyed and brought the subject up if it hadn't been for the _expression_ on Italy's face.

It damn near tore his heart in two to see such a painfully _sad_ and _broken_ expression on that normally smiling face. And, judging from the faint remnants of dried tears, he had been crying as well.

Where the hell was Feliciano going, or _doing_ for that matter, that made him so sad?

Seeing as he was never going to be able to sleep this night, Germany decided it was about time he found out.

Putting some proper pants on, but not bothering for shirt (he was accustomed to this degree of cold, going out in a muscle shirt wouldn't kill him), he made his way through the house. With no sign of the Italian in question, he concluded the nation must be outside.

Italy hated being out in the cold for so long, though...

Shaking his head, Ludwig made his way outside, then out to the back, seeing as Italy wasn't in the front yard.

_The stars are bright tonight__…_ was the vague thought that crossed the German's mind until a quiet sniffle brought him back to reality.

There, sitting in the large backyard by himself, hugging his knees and most likely crying if he hadn't imagined that pitiful sniffle, was Italy.

And for some painful reason, the sight of Feliciano, sitting by himself in a vast expanse of green and dark, dark blue, looking so small, so fragile, brought to him a sense of nostalgia that flooded him so violently he didn't know how to respond.

A vague, fuzzy memory, like that of a badly worn and faded picture, attempted to come back to him, but it was much too far in the recesses of his mind to grasp it, to coax it out so that it could be remembered. Too fleeting to be caught, it disappeared, but not without the scene in front of him warping and, for a tiny instance, changing.

There the sky was a light blue, the sun shining gently, the breeze softly swaying the blades of green grass of the field they were in. Instead of Italy, however, there was a little girl in a light green dress, who, as if sensing she was being watched, turned to face him. With a smile uncannily similar to Italy's, she waved happily at him, giggling.

_"Hi! Welcome back -"_ but the name was muted, although her mouth certainly did _not_ mouth 'Germany.'

And then he was back in the present, the quiet cries of his beloved Italian having brought him back.

Quietly he made his way to the smaller nation, his presence unnoticed by the other even when he was kneeling at his side. Only when Ludwig laid a gentle hand on a trembling shoulder, softly calling out "Italy," did Feliciano become aware he wasn't alone.

Startled beyond belief, Italy jumped, gasping, completely tense and sitting up as straight as he could. Frightened brown eyes found worried sky blue ones, and almost instantly Italy seemed to calm down, relieved it was Germany who was at his side.

But then that's when he realized the German could see the tears.

"O-oh! H-hello, Germany!" Italy greeted nervously, ducking his head, hoping the other hadn't seen the tears or heard his cries. The large, warm, gentle hand that tenderly wiped away the few remaining tears that dripped down his face crushed those hopes entirely.

"Italy, what's wrong?" So gentle and warm was that question full of worry. It made Italy's heart flutter, and a light blush settled on his cheeks. Thankfully, he could blame the pink hue on the cold.

But there was nothing he could blame these tears on without lying. Instead, the small male tackled the larger man in a hug, startling Germany.

"Italy?"

"…it's nothing…" was all Italy was willing to say.

A bit irked, yet understanding that he could never force the Italian to say anything he didn't want to say, Germany let it go.

"It's getting cold, Italy," Germany murmured, gently trying to pry the Italian off him.

"Don't go!" was the near desperate response.

Surprised, Germany looked down at the small country, his response dying in his throat.

He'd never seen such a panicked look on Italy's face, never felt such a strong grip from him as those small hands latched themselves onto the front of his shirt with no intention of letting go, never heard such a pained, desperate tone from that mouth that usually spewed a bubbly accent.

And suddenly it was the little girl that was in front of him, desperately crying for him not to go, her tiny hands clinging to him in the same fashion.

"Italy…" Soon after that name was said, his voice was not alone; there was another, a child's, that spoke in time with him, and his line of vision was split: in one half he saw his Italy, and in the other, that girl who looked so much like Italy.

"I'm not going anywhere." _"You know I have to go."_

One expression was relief; the other, pain.

"Good," came the muffled reply from Italy as he embraced Germany tightly, burying his face into the crook of the other's neck.

_"Please…don't go…I don't want you to go!" Tears were falling down that pretty face, something that shouldn't be._

"I'm not going to leave you," Germany said, tentatively returning the sudden embrace.

_"I don't want to leave you either," the boy murmured, embracing the crying girl._

Why couldn't Holy Rome had said the same? Why couldn't he have just _stayed_...

"Not ever?" came the childish question Germany couldn't help but find endearing.

"No. But if I ever do, I'll always come back to you."

_"Don't worry, Italy. I'll come back to you, always."_

Germany's eyes widened. Italy?

That girl was Italy? Then…is that boy…who was that boy? Was he the reason Italy was crying, why he had been so frightened when he thought he was leaving, why he was suddenly asking him if he would never leave him?

He felt Italy freeze in his arms, slowly pulling away to face him, eyes full of confusion at that last sentence uttered.

_"Really, Holy Rome?" So hopefully asked…it tore the boy inside to have to lie to her like this._

Oh...

_"Really," Holy Rome murmured, leaning down as she rose up._

He understood now.

_That was the only kiss ever shared, a kiss of farewell._

He had been the one to make him cry.

_There was never one of welcome._

He had been the one to say goodbye...

_There was never going to be one in the first place._

Because he was once Holy Rome...

_After all, he had lied._

The one who had lied.

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**A/N****:** Longer chapter, yes~ I'm literally just shoving out the chapters, because it's a finished product ^J^

But really. Reviews, constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Tell me what y'all think! I swear guys, this one actually has a happy ending...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot.

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Chapter 3

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_"No. But if I ever do, I'll always come back to you."_

Italy stared at the other, eyes wide with shock at the paraphrased sentence. Holy Rome had said almost the exact same thing...

And, just for an instant, Germany _was_ Holy Rome. His eyes, such a stunning, warm blue; his hair, same as always, slicked back, but just as lovely when it was down and in a mess; his expressions, an array of emotions so rarely shown, almost as if stuck to a semi-permanent scowl; and his voice, now turned into a deeper tone due to adulthood - that low, gentle, warm voice that enveloped him and comforted him countless times before. But he couldn't be. _He couldn't be Holy Rome, because Holy Rome_...

"…what did you say?" His voice was barely at a whisper.

"I'll always come back to you," Germany repeated, gently brushing away the tears Italy had no idea were being shed. Resting his forehead against Italy's, he murmured what he knew would further break down the already broken nation in his arms, sweetly caressing the other's face. "I promised, didn't I?"

The tears fell freely now, like a torrent, unending and ceaseless. Italy clung to Germany's hand as if it were his lifeline, sobbing brokenly.

"H-Holy Ro-Rome…!" he cried, tossing himself at the Germanic nation, more than content to feel his embrace returned.

He couldn't believe it. He had come back. Holy Rome had come back…!

"No, Italy," Germany murmured gently, pulling Italy away so that they faced each other. Cupping the other's face in his hands carefully, almost afraid to hurt his fragile love, he continued. "I _was_ Holy Rome. I remember now. I remember the day I had to leave you, the day I promised I would come back. And I did. But, I came back as _Germany_."

Instead of a negative reaction to his words, he instead received a sweet little smile through the tears, small but radiant, a smile that made his heart beat a little faster.

"I know," Italy replied, holding the other's hands with his own smaller ones, leaning into their warmth. "Germany is Germany, and Holy Rome is Holy Rome. But I'm glad you came back to me, even as another. I'm happy…happy that you kept your promise. So, goodbye…and hello." A happy little laugh escaped the Italian, the tears slowly coming to an end, as he felt an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders in that single action. "I can move on now. I don't have to wait for you anymore."_  
_

"Nein. Not anymore," he agreed, returning the smile sent his way. It felt good to see him happy again. Germany honestly didn't know _what_ he would have done if Italy had kept on hurting the way he had been. To think that Feliciano was still so hurt, and for such a long time…it pained him to know that this is what he had done all these years, every night, sitting alone, _waiting_ for Holy Rome, crying, breaking...

It nearly broke his _own_ heart in two.

But now that was over, he knew it was as he happily held the smaller man who had once again snuggled contently into him. Even though the night had become bitterly cold, there was a warmth shared between them that the cold could barely manage to breech, a warmth that melted away everything and shrunk their world to just the other, and both were more than content with that.

The silence that enveloped them was a gentle one, a comforting one. They simply sat there, beneath the twinkling stars, beneath a Prussian blue sky, beneath the gentle, silver light of a full moon, caressed by a biting, yet gentle breeze, enjoying this peace, this contentment.

Neither knew how long they sat there. Only when both grew heavy with sleep did they realize that they needed to go inside.

"Come now," the German murmured, rousing Italy who had only just begun to doze off. "Let's go inside."

"Mm," was his only reply as the smaller male remained still, unwilling to move. Sighing with a little smile, Germany stood, carrying Italy like a new bride in his arms, chuckling lightly as the little Italian simply shifted to cuddle closer, falling asleep as he was carried home.

Tucking the small man into the bed, Germany soon followed suit, not surprised that the other almost instantly curled up to him once he lay beside him; such was the way it had always been. Wrapping his arm loosely around Italy's small waist, he finally fell into a sound sleep.

Both rested easier that night. Regardless of the usual routine of every morning henceforth - the yelling, the commanding, the banter, the subtle caring, the highs, the lows that were ever present in their lives, there was something, at least, finally left in the past where it belonged.

Without the noisy, oppressive clatter of the chain that kept him from moving too far forward, Italy was finally free to truly do as he pleased with a freedom he hadn't felt in years. With the realization of who he was, there was nothing to keep Germany wondering about those ceaseless, heartbreaking memories of a girl and a boy that came in fading bittersweet and haunting dreams, nothing to keep him from the little Italian he often housed.

And now both could move on.

And maybe, just maybe, Italy thought, they could be together. Not as Italy and Holy Rome, but as Italy and _Germany_, of whom he had loved and fallen _in_ love with as a separate entity for centuries now, but had never had the courage to be with.

Who knows?

Noticing that Germany didn't shrug him off when he rested his head on his broad shoulder, noticing the light blush, the slightly shy and embarrassed expression hidden underneath that familiar scowl...

Italy couldn't help but think he had a pretty damn good chance after all.

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**A/N****:** Review!


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